


Promise me we'll avenge Lady, Jon

by myrish_lace



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 14:10:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8375206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrish_lace/pseuds/myrish_lace
Summary: When Sansa and Jon reunite at Castle Black, meeting Ghost again brings up bittersweet memories of Lady for Sansa.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-shot I wrote about the Starks and their direwolves for the second day of Jonsa Week on tumblr. I'm on tumblr as myrish-lace-love if you want to say hi! :)

Ghost was a constant shadow at Sansa’s side, ever since she came to the Wall. Frankly, Jon was relieved. Some of his brothers were honorable men, but some were not. Sansa had always been pretty as a girl, but now she was breathtakingly beautiful, tall and willowy with serious blue eyes and auburn hair that poured over her shoulders in a shining fall. The men who grumbled the Wall was no place for a woman were the same men who sneaked greedy, leering looks at her.

He hadn't wanted to ask her how she lost Lady, and he knew Sansa would tell him in her own time. Sansa mentioned it a few days after Lyanna Mormont had sworn sixty-two men to their cause.

“She’s right, you know, Jon. I’m technically a Lannister, or a Bolton.” Sansa had dark circles under her eyes. They were both worn and tired from crossing the North, drumming up supporters to take down Ramsey. Sansa curled her hands around a bowl of stew as they sat together on the benches at Castle Black.

“You’re a Stark, Sansa. Winterfell's yours.”

“Ours, Jon. Winterfell’s ours.” Jon took heart from the fierceness in her voice. “But Lady Lyanna Mormont only said what others will think. I’ve been married twice since I left Winterfell.”

“Sansa –“

“I lost my direwolf, Jon. I know you’ll say you're not a Stark, but there's your direwolf, plain as day.” Ghost, sprawled out by the fire, thumped his tail. “I should have saved her. I should have saved Lady.” Sansa’s shoulders were hunched against the cold, and she wouldn’t meet Jon’s eyes.

Jon tried again. “Sansa, I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.”

“Arya managed it.” Sansa bit the words out. “Arya got Nymeria to run. I just stood there like a spoiled brat and let Joffrey do what he wanted.”

Jon sighed. “Tell me from the beginning, Sansa.”

“I lost her on the way to King’s Landing. Joffrey and I caught Arya sword-fighting with the butcher’s boy, Micah.” Jon wondered if Arya still had Needle with her. “Joffrey taunted Micah, and Arya launched herself at Joffrey. Nymeria tore into Joffrey’s arm.”

Sansa but her lip. "I hated Arya so much in that moment Jon, for ruining my beautiful storybook day with Joffrey. I should have thanked her. I should have left Joffrey to bleed in the grass. Instead I ran to him and called him my poor prince. They brought both of us before the king. Arya was wild, shouting, you can imagine, Jon.” Jon could almost hear the echoes of Arya’s indignant voice. “She kept calling Joffrey a liar. She was right. They brought me before Robert, fat and stinking in his chair. But he was the king, and he told me it would be a great crime to lie to him. I did anyway. I said I couldn't remember anything.”

Jon was at a loss. “Arya wasn't promised to someone, Sansa.” He felt ridiculous speaking about betrothals, he was a bastard who'd left for the Night's Watch when he was a boy. “I don’t know much about how that works. But you've told me how dangerous Joffrey and Cersei were. If you'd told the truth, they might have hurt Arya.”

Sansa nodded. “They might have. I thought we were in the clear, Jon, Nymeria had vanished and Robert seemed ready to let it go. ‘Children fight, it’s over,’ he said. Then Cersei brought up Lady.”

Jon sat back. “Why?”

“Because she wanted a dead direwolf, and any direwolf would do. Lady was still there with us in the stables at the Inn. Father killed her.”

“Father killed Lady?” Why would Lord Stark have slain a direwolf?

Sansa saw the surprise in Jon’s face. “He told me later if he couldn't carry the rest of the burden for me, he wanted to carry her death. I screamed at him in my chamber. But I understand why Father did it. Cersei would have made Lady's pelt into a cape, or a stole, and she would have worn it in front of me at every opportunity in those golden rooms at King’s Landing. A lion, parading around with her kill.” Ghost growled softly in his throat. “Joffrey made me stare at father's dead face, and Cersei would have preened at me with Lady's fur wrapped around her shoulder. I see that now. Father sent Lady's body back to Winterfell, far from the Lannisters.”

Sansa wiped away tears. “I swear I knew when she died, Jon. I felt it, like a piece cut out of my heart.” Ghost got up and rested his great head on Sansa's lap. “You probably think me foolish.”

“No, Sansa. I'd know if something happened to Ghost.” Jon spoke as gently as he could. “Do you remember how I wasn't sure about Rickon, whether we could know if he was alive or not, if Ramsey had him?”

“Yes. I thought you doubted me.”

Jon had, but he didn’t want to dwell on it. “Part of it was because Ghost hadn’t sensed Shaggydog in weeks.”

Sansa stroked behind Ghost’s ears. “Ghost can sense the other wolves?”

Jon shifted in his chair. “I dream with Ghost, sometimes. Ghost knows Nymeria and Summer are alive.”

Sansa listened, rapt. “What are they doing?”

Jon shrugged. “Running. Hunting. The wolves miss being part of a pack.” His father’s words: _The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives_.

Sansa took Jon’s hand. “We're together again, you and I. The start of a pack.” Jon was touched. “Can I...can Ghost stay with me tonight, Jon?”

“Of course, Sansa.” Jon wondered if Sansa might dream of Nymeria and Summer, as he sometimes did.

***

Jon rarely had wolf dreams without Ghost beside him, but as soon as he fell asleep he was loping across the tundra. He could feel Sansa with them. Sansa was afraid, but also thrilled. He'd thought she'd recoil when Ghost tore into the belly of a boar, entrails glistening and steaming on the cold ground, but she didn't. She reveled in the chase, and in the hunt, and in the kill.

They exchanged awkward looks when he came to her chambers with firewood the next evening. "I hope you didn't mind, Jon. If you'd like Ghost back I understand - oh.” Ghost had trotted over and curled up on the heap of brown furs at the foot of Sansa's bed. Jon had piled up as many as he could find from the spare rooms. He recalled how cold he’d been when he first came to the Wall years ago.

Jon smirked. “It's not up to me who he stays with. I think he’s made his choice.”

“Thank you Jon. I haven't slept so well in months, Jon. Were you there last night, with us?” Sansa's cheeks were pink.

“I was.”

“Did you expect me to be horrified?” The hint of a smile played around Sansa’s lips.

He chose honesty. “Yes, I did. I'm sorry.”

“Don’t be. I would have been horrified as a girl. I’m sure I would have hated this castle.”

“It's not much, Castle Black.” It was close to a ruin, in fact. The buildings were crumbling, and many were abandoned.

“You're my family, Jon, and you're here. It's better than any of the gilded cages I was in at King’s Landing, or the Eyrie.” Sansa's grip on Jon's shoulder was strong. “Promise me, Jon. After we take Winterfell back – we’ll look for Nymeria and Summer, Arya and Bran. Promise me."

“I promise, Sansa.”


End file.
